


Finally, silence.

by faerieden



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghostbur, No Beta, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Post-Doomsday, Technoblade & Tommyinnit - Freeform, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Traitor Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:15:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28972665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerieden/pseuds/faerieden
Summary: Tommy never came to terms with Wilbur’s passing. How could he, when a visage of the man long gone follows him everywhere.How could he, when he sees Wilbur’s smile and hears his laugh throughout the empty streets of L’manberg.How could he say his brother is dead, when he knows that his spirit still lives and breathes within the city he built, echoing in the voices of the people he left behind?
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo & Tommyinnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	Finally, silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Very quickly written character study, I like the idea that Wilbur is still alive to Tommy as long as L’manberg is, and well, that makes L’manberg’s second death even less bearable.

tommy can’t look at the crater for too long. not just for the whispers that crawl into his mind like poisonous vines, telling him that salvation lies at the bottom, he just has to jump to reach it. not just for the wasted days and hours he spent trying to claw his way back to a country that wanted him dead, forcing him back into the arms of a beast vying for it’s destruction. no, he averted his eyes for a different reason. tommy found that looking into that crater, the seemingly endless hole that marks where a country once was, where a quiet song grew into a symphony louder than it’s creator- was just like looking at wilbur’s body the first time he died. 

The day is still vivid in his head, something about seeing the towering figure of his father, blade drawn over the heap of limbs that was his brother never seemed to leave his mind. Sometimes he wishes he’d have rushed to his brother’s side then, pulled the wreckage of guilt and misplaced anger into his shaking arms and squeezed. Maybe his affection could pull the broken man back together, make him Wilbur again. The wilbur who built L’manberg’s walls, the wilbur who made tommy his matching uniform, the wilbur who sang into the cold night air, filling the space around tommy with hushed voices and gentle guitar strings. Tommy finds himself wishing that’s what his head was filled with now, Wilbur’s raspy voice instead of tubbo’s screams and techno’s shouts of anger.

Of course, Tommy knows that his arms alone couldn’t save his brother. His father’s blade was the only salvation Wilbur sought, and Tommy was too preoccupied trying talk his other ~~brother~~ down from destroying his home that he didn’t notice the ex-president himself mere feet away, pressing the button that would do the same thing. Both Techno and Wilbur lost their minds that day, Tommy thinks, the only difference is that Techno doesn’t feel the guilt of letting his country and people down, doesn’t feel the crushing pit at the bottom of his stomach knowing what he stole away from a mere teenager.

Tommy doesn’t think of Wilbur’s death often. Mostly because of how hard it is to believe the man’s really gone. The visage of Wilbur that follows Tommy around Logsted isn’t his brother, not even close. The wary ghost couldn’t hold a candle to wilbur’s strength, his intelligence, the ever-burning fire behind his eyes- a fire so strong that it eventually consumed Wilbur too, leaving ash and smoke where a brother once stood. No, ghostbur couldn’t ever be everything that wilbur was, but there was still a familiarity there that comforted tommy. The yellow jumper and soft voice lulled tommy to sleep, just as it had when he was young and careless. But wilbur’s brilliance didn’t die with him. He saw wilbur every day that he was in L’manberg. He saw wilbur in the towers of Eret’s castle, in the looming size of the white house. He saw wilbur in the tiny van built so long ago, where him and his best friend schemed for war and glory, not thinking of the price it would cost them. He saw wilbur in the paths, in the grass, in the flowers that littered the ground. He heard Wilbur’s voice, both gentle and commanding, in the cries of L’manberg’s people, in the wind that carried away the gunpowder and ash, in the disks he held so dear. Walking the paths of L’manberg felt like being in wilbur’s arms again, and Tommy’s entire being knew that Wilbur was alive and breathing as long as L’manberg was, too. The song might have gotten quieter, sure, but the symphony still boomed in Tommy’s ears, brought him comfort when there was none.

Exile made it worse. Tommy could still hear it, the endless music, the soft guitar and the gentle whisperings of two brothers, hidden deep in a cave waiting for the moment to strike. Only it was far away, notes dancing over a deep, vast ocean, the same ocean that tommy woke up in every morning, deeper and deeper until he felt like he could never swim to the surface again. If he swam out far enough, he could almost hear it, but Dream’s calls always brought him back to shore, apologies falling out of his mouth and down at the masked man’s feet. Ghostbur’s quiet hums help him sleep at night, but something isn’t the same. The ghost sings melodies that run in circles, never quite finding the notes that wilbur could, a song that promised tommy of a special place; one that tommy longs to return to.

For a brief moment in Techno’s house, the music stops. The snow that covers the ground and makes tommy’s hands go numb seems to deafen the music finally, and Tommy starts to heal. Or at least he thinks he does. His pain and trauma temporarily melts, soothed by Techno’s occasional shows of affection, hands messing up his hair and armor handed to him, shining and new. Tommy can almost trick himself into believing that him and Techno have always been this way, almost forget the fireworks and the pit and the words that twisted so far into his chest like a knife he could never pull out. But as wilbur’s melodies leave his head, the space is filled with techno’s ramblings, promises of war and destruction and fire that creep into his dreams, haunting him with premonitions of pain and hurt that hadn’t been done yet, but he knew would be soon. Techno never understood why Tommy couldn’t bear to see L’manberg die again. Couldn’t see what tommy saw, couldn’t see the wild, beating heart at the core of the country- the seeds that wilbur had sown and schlatt had attempted to rip out of the ground with his bare hands, now being gently tended to by Tubbo. _His_ Tubbo.

Tommy knew it was coming. He watched as Dream built his machinations high in the sky, as Techno arrived, cape flowing behind him, and he caught sight of his father, brow set and eyes blazing. He fought off the instinct to run to him, to lean into his father’s shoulder as if his wings could shield him from all the pain in the world, but he had to remind himself that Phil hadn’t been Tommy’s father for a long time. 

Even though he spent nights readying himself, Tommy wasn’t ready to see L’manberg fall. He didn’t even fight, how could he? The tnt pierced his eardrums, filling his head with memories of war and brothers and armor thrown in holes that not even Tubbo’s hands holding him could chase away. He watched as Phil and his son, both undeserving of their familial titles, drove a blade right into wilbur’s heart once again. stomped on his grave, ripped out all that was left of wilbur’s great orchestra and tossed it, watching it be consumed by tnt. the music had stopped, this time overpowered by a chorus of explosions and cries of pain. Tommy watches as Phil cheers, as Niki stares blankly at a blazing tree, as Ranboo cowers away from the fires spreading through his home, as Techno screams profanity, cursing the brother that he broke in that pit so long ago. His screams of “I am a person Tommy!” can’t help but be followed by Tommy’s whisper of “So am I”. 

And so Tommy holds the world in his hands, holds onto Tubbo, both of them slumped against the jukebox that hasn’t sung in months. They both avert their eyes, but he can’t help but feel that tubbo does it for a different reason. For the first time in months, Tommy can’t feel his brother anymore. Can’t hear his voice echo through ravines and caverns, can’t see his golden touch in the things they built together, can’t feel the weight of a hand on his back, paired with the ghost of an “I’m proud of you, Tommy”. And for once, the silence scares him more than his brother ever did.


End file.
